Uprise
by Dirichimo
Summary: Someone has stolen Russia's nukes and the whole world is in danger! Russia gets pissed and goes berserk trying to find the culprit. With America, Russia, Canada, and Japan as the major characters! -No hating on any country. Might add a little fluff, but it will be very minor. Rated M for lots of violence and some sexual thoughts. Chapter 3 added!
1. Stay Strong

The moon hung in the sky with misery, a gloomy mist surrounding its shine. It gave off the only light to the dark-infested city, the city itself looking lifeless. The buildings loomed over a single man walking down the ghostly street, his figure brightened by the flickering streetlights. The man's breath hung in the air, and he shivered under his coat, crumpling the hamburger wrapper in his fist and taking his last gulp. He stuffed his hands in his coat, and shrugged his shoulders to snuggled into the furry rim. His breath once again sparkled as he huffed out, letting another shiver run down his spine. Something didn't feel right.

His eyes darted around as he walked down the deserted street, a chilly breeze once again causing him to reach further into his coat for comfort. His hair brushed on his neck, bothering him. The man shook his head; the hairs on the back of his neck were standing. This aroused a fear that had not been up since he took Japan head on. A flash of the fight strung through his mind and he shuddered. He loved Japan's culture, but when it came to fighting that ninja he would rather take on Germany blindfolded. This thought caused his walking to hasten. He started turning his head now, fear beginning to emanate from him. False thoughts began to rise in his mind… what if Kiku had a grudge on him? What if the same man who created cute kitties and hot anime girls hated him for torturing his people during World War 2? No, that's impossible… was it? His muscles tensed as he started to expect the Japanese to pop out of the dark and slice him with his sword. He felt around in his pocket for his gun, and grabbed the handle and kept on walking.

He heard the sound of a foot scraping the ground, and he turns towards the direction of the noise, gripping the handle tighter. "Who's there?" He yelled loudly, trying to sound tough. He bent his knees in anticipation for a surprise attack, but nothing happened. He stood in silence, his breath sparkling like crystals in the dreaded moonlight. He hesitated before straightening, fixing his coat and heading down the street again. There was nothing but the sound of his footsteps on the wet street as he walked, not uttering another word. Suddenly, a quiet, hushed laugh echoed around his ears, and the man didn't know where the laugh came from. A shiver ran down his spine as her turned in a circle. He shut his eyes tightly and opened them again, blinking away the tiredness of the night. His heart pounded in his chest, and he brought his free hand up to his chest and fisted it, grabbing his coat. He took a deep breath and began to run.

The further he ran the louder the laughter got. His breath began to rasp in short, wispy blasts. He clenched his jaw and brought his hands to his ears and screamed, "GO AWAY!"

He wasn't paying attention to where he was going, and tripped on something. The world around his circled, and he stumbled to the ground, and everything went silent again. He gasped for breath as it left his lungs, and he wrapped his arms around his stomach as he rolled on his back. He blinked again, and sat himself up, the world around him spinning. As he opened his eyes, a pair of feet approached him and he backed up, jumped to his feet and met Russia's eyes. "Uhh… hi Ivan… err…. Uh… what… are you doing here?" Asked the man, pushing his glasses up his nose, his right lens cracked from the fall. Ivan chuckled. "Oh Alfred, you always used to be so gullible." He said in a voice so cracked it didn't even sound like Russia's. Something hung within Russia's eyes as they met with Alfred's, a lingering evil that had refreshed within the man's contempt face. He let out a single laugh and smiled his usual smile. He tilted his head slightly, his face looking so innocent. That's what scared Alfred.

He stared at Ivan and stepped back. "Uhhhhuh… riiight…" He said, staring still at Russia with uncertainty. His innocent glare chilled him and he took another step back. He frowned. "uh… heh… well… I'm gonna… go…" He coughed and started to turn away. He wanted to get as far away from here as possible. "Oh don't turn your back on me Alfred." Alfred froze in his steps, the tension between them rising to high levels.

America turned back around, glaring at Russia. Fear struck his very core, but he pretended like it was nothing. "Is that a threat?" Replied America, slipping his hand into his pocket to search for his gun again. Russia chuckled. His chuckle grew into a cackling laugh. A laugh so twisted, it seemed like a nightmare had unfolded from his mouth, his laugh ended abruptly, leaving echoing whispering ringing in the air. America stepped back and revealed his shotgun. "Stay away from me! I have a bullet and I'm not afraid to blast your head off!"

That threat only seemed to enlighten the deranged man even more. He laughed once more, his lips curling, so twisted. Alfred turned and ran. He didn't look back. He ran and ran. He didn't know where. Ivan's laughs resounded around him. "GAAAH!" America screamed. Why couldn't he escape this terror? _I gotta lay off the hamburgers… _He thought angrily as his breath grew short, and he ran into an alley to hide. Dead end. "Shit." He whispered to himself. Ivan cackled again behind him, and America turned and pulled out his gun and pointed it at Russia. "Come any closer and I'll shoot!" He screeched defiantly, staring straight into the eyes of the insane man. Ivan chuckled. "Uh uh uhh… I wouldn't do that…" He said in a soft whisper, his smile curling as a man on a cloak appeared, holding Canada by the collar. "Matt!" Alfred yelled, staring his innocent younger brother as he struggled to breathe, on the tips of his toes and being choked by the cuff of his coat hanging by it like a convicted felon strung by a rope. He was grasping the cuff of his coat, his mouth gaping open for air.

"You bastard!" He yelled at Russia and throwing his gun down. "Let him go!" He screeched, glancing back at his brother with fear grazing his eyes. "Wh-what are you going to do to him!" He yelled angrily back at Russia. "Oh nothing…" Alfred didn't believe that. Russia smirked. "…yet…." That one single world, chilled Alfred to the bone. He glanced at Canada and cringed. "Y-you bastard!" He screamed again, fear welling into him. The cloaked man who was holding Matthew threw him to the ground. Matthew landed on the hard, cold floor with a thud, not struggling to get up. He curled into a ball hugging an invisible white bear that wasn't there his time. Tears streaked his dirt encrusted face as he shivered in his frosty misery. He looked like a helpless child, weak and small. His glasses were broken and barely hung on. He dared not to move, for fear of what Russia would do to him. He stared up at America, his hopeless eyes wandering to his brother's and locking on each other. He tried to speak to his brother, but his voice was lost in fear and pain. All he could do was mouth the words, "Help…" and shuddered again, his hands bringing an ex across his chest. The cloaked man began uttering word inaudible, but a slight purple light began emanating from him. Suddenly, an ear piercing shriek came from Alfred's brother, and he squirmed in pain unable to see.

Lightning cracked across the sky, and another shriek rose up from Matthew. Alfred froze in horror. "No… NO!" He screamed as he watched his brother being tortured from the inside out. "What are you doing to him!" He screamed, his voice hoarse as his throat tightened and his eyes watered. He knelt down, hanging his head. Canada shrieked again, writing in pain from the curse laid upon him. A light rain began to fall, and thunder rolled. "You can make this stop…" hummed Russia, his innocent voice ringing in Alfred's ears. He glanced up at Ivan. "How… HOW?" He screamed at Russia, tears staining his eyes. Tears ran down Alfred's cheeks as he stared up at Russia hopelessly, and Canada's cries resided. "Trade me your life… for his." Chuckled Russia evilly, He smirked and stared at Alfred directly into his eyes, staring into his soul. Alfred stared back, shocked. "eheh… what? No!" He blurted out.

Wait… what did he say? Alfred glanced back at his brother and saw the pain in his eyes. Matthew looked away, and closed his eyes. Tears streaked his cheeks again. Russia's laugh cackled again. The cloaked man uncovered his head from the hood, revealing shaggy blonde hair and bushy eyebrows. Unmistakably- Arthur. His face was a misty grey. He was hypnotized, and stared at Alfred expressionless. He glided towards Matthew and knelt down, hovering his hand across his body. "Don't you touch him!" Yelled America, tears streaming down his face. England stared at America mercilessly. "Ignore him.." Russia's voice snacked in, forcing England back to his work.

A ripple of pain ran through Alfred's brother, and America clenched his jaw as Matthew quietly struggled to keep his pain contained for his brother's sake. Shadows erupted from Arthur's outstretched hand, floating above Canada's body as he cringed into a ball of pain, and closed his eyes. Screams escaped Matthew's mouth again and it scared Alfred's eyes open just in time to see what had happened.

The shadows had sharpened into string-like swords and struck into Matthew at all angles on his body. Blood splattered the ground and England's cloak as they struck like bullets. The shadows once again left his body and hovered above his body again. Blood dripped from the shadows and stained them dark red. Canada breathed heavily and coughed, letting blood leave his mouth. A pool of blood accumulated where he laid, His eyes glazed over. Canada was ready to die.

The shadows poised to strike again, but before they hit, America screamed, "Wait!" Everything paused but the rain. Thunder rolled again in the heavens and Alfred's dreadful eyes met Ivan's joyful ones, and locked on each other. "Please, let my brother go… please… take me instead... please!" Said America hopelessly, He glanced at Canada, who was so weak and innocent, Who was probably hanging on to whatever life he had left, whatever energy he had to stay awake. He had to stay conscious. Everyone knew that. Alfred looked back at Russia. "You let my brother go… and I'll come with you. I promise."

Russia's lips curled and he chuckled, his cheeky face tainted with madness. "That's more like it…" Replied Russia, and England stood up and backed away from Canada. America rushed to his brother and held him within his lap. "Matt… het Matt… you still there?" His throat tightened and tears weld in his eyes again. Alfred stroked his brother's face and his hand stained with Matthew's blood. "Bro… dude… s-speak to me! Tell me you're not gone.." His voice ended in a whisper and he touched his forehead to his brother's and his tears fell once again. "Please…" He whispered.

"You... stupid…" Coughed Matthew, his eyes glazed over. "Matt!" Said Alfred, smiling with a smidget of hope. He looked into his brother's barely conscious eyes. "Stay strong bro.." Whispered America, joy welling in his chest that his brother was still alive. "You… stay… strong.." Whispered Matthew, his voice rough with pain. "I…. I will…" Alfred whispered, heartbroken. "I promise."

"Come on." Muttered Russia, and England grabbed America by the cuff, forcing him to let go of Canada. The boy coughed and sputtered up some more blood again, lying on the tiled ground, forcing himself to keep his eyes open. America reached into his pocket and dug out his phone. He dialed 911 and dropped it to the ground next to his brother. Arthur tugged on Alfred's collar and he stumbled forwards, following Ivan. They left the alleyway, walked down the deserted street, only rain breaking the silence. As they turned the block, sirens rang into the sky, ensuring Alfred that is brother was safe.


	2. Inquiry

Darkness. Nothing but darkness. Was he sleeping? Was all of this a dream? No… it couldn't be… it all seemed so real. He opened his eyes. Still darkness. He clenched his teeth together, he felt to lightheaded. It was then when he realized he wasn't lying down in his bed. Gravity was pulling him down… and his arms… they were so sore… He tried to move them, but they were asleep. He tried to look in the direction of his arms… he couldn't tell where they were. He couldn't even tell if he was moving them or not. Darkness engulfed his eyes. Why couldn't he see anything?

He shuddered. He realized suddenly, that he was cold. He tried to listen for a sound, a sign that he wasn't alone. Where was he? His memory of his last thoughts was hazy. He tried to think back. What had happened? He closed his eyes tightly and opened them again. He opened his mouth in the agony of lightheaded-ness. It felt like there was nothing but mist in his mind. _Think… Think….._

He was walking down the street. He winced in pain. Trying to remember… it hurt. He opened his mouth to reveal his teeth tightly clenched together as he tried to cope with the thudding pain on his head. "Think Alfie think!" He hissed to himself angrily. Speaking made the pain worse, and he let out a whine of pain.

He was walking down the street. With… his vision blurred. _With who man with who? _ Light skin and a gray topped head… the long innocent face… unmistakably Russia. Someone else… a shorter man with a mess of blonde atop his small face. A cloak hung around his neck… and the brows… the eyebrows! ENGLAND! And… then an intense pain. He remembered… a grey frying pan… wait what? A frying pan? What?

Alfred coughed and bowed his head. _Oh that's right_… He rung his head around in a circle to release his sore neck. He was upright, and he was standing… but why couldn't he move? Why wasn't he moving… or trying to? He coughed again and it echoed. Wherever he was, it was cold, damp, and empty. His cough returned back to him and rang in his ears, reminding him of the horror. He shivered and tries to hunch his shoulders to dig into his jacket fuzz, but it wasn't there. He moaned in a sickly, cracked voice that sounded like a 50 year old with pneumonia. His long moan slurred as he formed his mouth to create words. "Russia…" He yelled into the blackness. Only his echoes replied. "England…" He breathed out. It took all of his conscious energy to say their names.

Suddenly, a bright light poured from above him and blinded him. He winced and closed his eyes, and slowly opened his eyes and got used to the light. He checked himself for any injuries caused while he was out. Nothing. He sighed with relief. His relief caught in his throat when he realized the position he was in. He was barefoot and his feet were touching the slimy, grey tiling of the floor. His arms were raised and his wrists were in shackles and he was chained. His chest and back were completely exposed to whatever torture he was to receive. Whatever it was, it was going to be worse than his brother's torture… much worse. The spotlight was huge, though. It brought light to his surroundings and allowed him to see that he was in a cave of some sort. His vision was blurry. His glasses were gone.

He took a deep breath. He hesitated to breathe out, but he did. Suddenly, another spotlight turned on, and revealed Russia sitting on his throne. He had his legs crossed and was staring at him, his eyes so intense with an unreadable emotion. He knew whatever was coming for him wasn't good.

"Russia… has a few questions for American…" Said Ivan, his eyes lurking into Alfred's glazed eyes. "And if ze American does not answer correctly… he will be punished." Said the Russian in his smooth voice, and licked his lips with anticipation. From behind his throne revealed a tall, lean man with flowing golden locks of hair, wearing a white flannel shirt and bright blue jeans, and holding a long, black, slinky whip in his hand. The whip was covered in white spikes. Fangs and claws of animals attached on to the whip. They dangled limply, but sparkled menacingly. France.

"Ohhh no… not you too France…" muttered America hopelessly. Another victim of Russia's wrath. "D-don't tell me… he got you too..." He said, staring at France with dread in his eyes. He always did make fun of France for being weak… but he always treated him like a brother, a younger brother who was helpless and annoying.

A laugh arose from the Frenchman, his eyes glinting with pleasure. "Ohonhonhonhon…" was his only reply.

Alfred's eyes flashed to Ivan. "Why are you doing this?" He shouted. "Why are you bringing other countries into this?" He fussed, throwing his arms and making the chains clink. "Why don't you do it all yourself, coward!" He yelled, his voice rose when he said coward. His blind rage was interrupted by the crack of a whip as France wisped it in the air.

"Silence!" Russia's angry voice boomed and resounded in America's ears, and he winced. Russia was now standing up, his eyes furious and his mouth curled in a frown. He was gripping his chair arms hard. After a moment of silence, he let his hands slip off of his comfortable chair to let himself walk around his victim. As he rounded to America's back, he grew dangerously close, and caressed Alfred's muscular back with his hands. He stopped, grabbed America's shirt, and pulled. For a brief moment, America was choked and pulled back by the force of his shirt, but then, it ripped clean off. Russia chuckled and ran a finger down Alfred's back, making a 'tsk' noise. As he began to walk around America once again, he began to explain. "You see, Russia never tortures people." He said and came to face Alfred, their noses only an inch apart. Their eyes locked. And through that joyful face Ivan uttered, "Russia cannot torture people. Russia only murders. If Russia cannot zee the light die from his enemy's eyes he has failed himself and failed his country." He backed up and back into his chair.

"Now. Let us begin.." Said Ivan, his eyes dancing with pleasure. France, too, looked pleased with this honor or torturing his captive. He smirked and brought his fingertips to his lips and stared at America cheekily. America stared at him back. France was much of a 'lover' type, but France didn't do this kind of torture… right? Was he doing this under Russia's hypnotism? He shuddered as he stared into France's lusting eyes. Francis waited with anticipation in his smile as he walked over to America, and grabbed onto the chain connecting his right wrist into the darkness. His whip snaked around them, flailing on the ground, the teeth clanking with the tile. He once again emanated his lustful laugh. "ohonhonhonhonhonhonhon…"

"Someone… has…. taken something very… valuable of mine…" says Russia, his menacing voice softly spoken, sending chills running down Alfred's spine. He tried to keep his cool. His could once again feel his arms, since he was so tense the blood had begun to churn. He braced himself for the worst.

"Do you know any of zhis person's… whereabouts?" He asked slyly, his eyes flickering up to America's. America's mind was buzzing. What valuables? Who would steal anything from Russia? Why would anyone steal from Russia? What valuables did Russia have? The only thing Ivan openly considered… valuable was his… nukes…

"Oh crap…" He muttered to himself.

He stared at the ground. Someone stole Russia's nukes… then every single country was in danger…

"'nd you know… not any… normal country can take my valuables without me knowing… a country who is very pow'rful, a country with hatred towards Mother Russia." Said the cheeky man, glaring at America. Alfred knew that he was referring to the cold war. Alfred never saw very many Russians in his country. He finally understood why Russia wanted him. Why Russia could've easily concluded to America as the thief. Unresolved feelings still boiled on the brim of each country, and even a simple threat towards either country could flare up a thread of anger.

"Ivan… I promise you… I have nothing to do with this. I know no information on this subject." Reported America in his humble voice, hoping that the man would accept his truthful confession. Russia chuckled, leading France to laugh alongside with him. Insanity sparked in the man sitting in his chair, as the laughs rose higher and higher. The laughter alone tortured Alfred's ears, and he cringed. "Wrong answer!' screeched Russia, snapping his fingers joyfully.

France walked behind America, and he heard the crack of a whip. Suddenly, a searing, blinding pain slapped onto his back and rippled up his spine. America yelled in agony, standing on his toes and bending his back slightly. Ivan seemed to take joy in his pain. The whip's teeth dug into his skin, and France pulled it away, ripping the skin-caught teeth out of his body. He could feel the sticky blood running down his back and staining his pants. He clenched his teeth in pain.

"Now." Ivan said, resting his chin on his hand and staring at America with glee locked in his eyes. "Do you know anyone who might have a grudge on Mother Russia?" Said Russia, his innocent voice ringing in America's ears, taunting him. "England… France…" Muttered America, his voice choked by pain. "Already got them." Replied Russia in delight. Two more lashes from the teethed whip, Alfred screamed and struggled as the whiplashes tore away more skin on his back. The chains containing him clanked and cluttered as Alfred struggled.

"Me… of course…" said America, bracing himself for the impact of another lash.

Nothing came.

France hissed in laughter, coming closer to America. "Oh Rhussia, vhy must I take the beauty away from his body?" His voice seemed miserably cheerful, and had that same innocence of Russia's. France wrapped his arms around America's neck, the whip draping over America's arm and slightly scratching him. He winced as France ran a hand down America's torn back, letting his fingertips stain with America's blood. America shuddered. "Why can't I punish 'im… my way?" France said, his voice husky with want. Alfred could smell Francis' vodka-tainted breath as France came around to face America. Francis' words disgusted him.

"Because he's my captive." hissed Russia in a slinky voice. France gave a pouty face to America, and smirked.

"Now. Who else would hate Russia… besides American?" Russia said, glaring back at America.

America paused, staring at the ground. Sweat rolled off his nose. It was cold sweat. He shuddered and took a breath. "Hurry up!" Muttered Russia. "I do not wait for people!" He shouted. "Poland!" America screamed in reply. The name of that country seemed to throw Russia off of his tracks. After a moment of silence, Russia began to chuckle. "You stupid." France smirked again and with a crack of his whip he slapped it across America's chest and Alfred screamed. A huge gash now stained Alfred's chest and allowed blood to drop on the grimy floor.

"You know…" began Russia again, staring at America, obviously forcing himself to stay in his seat. The excitement of the torture was making him antsy. "They say it takes 49 lashes to kill a man." Another cry arose from Alfred as Francis smacked his whip across America's chest, laughing in bliss. America's cries rose higher and higher in pitch as Francis kept going, one, two three, four more.

Russia chuckled mercilessly. "Shall we take count? Один, два, три, семь." Counted Russia in his own language. "Seven lashes." Said Russia in glee. "And not even on ze third question." France laughed his lusty laugh and stared at America, fluffing the collar of his shirt and running his eyes down America's torn body.

"Where do you suppose this person could've hidden my valuables?" Asked Russia, glaring at America, awaiting his answer.

_Damnit… I'll have to say weird answer to get stay out of pain…_Thought America to himself. He thought hard. He opened his mouth about to speak, 'in his own country', but that would never work. Russia would have found them by now. Instead, he went along with, "H-he.. could've smuggled them into another country, so incase the nukes are found, the country responsible isn't the one to blame." Russia glared at him with hatred. America didn't know if it was because he figured out the game or if it was because he said the wrong answer… again, but he knew he was going to get whipped again."

"Who evar said they were nukes?" Hissed Russia angrily. The whip slashed down his side and he yelled in pain. His breath grew hazy as he tried to contain his pain. His arm muscles bulged as he struggled to break free from his bondage. He began to feel woozy. He began to use the chains for support and he concentrated his strength to his pain. "восемь." Ivan counted to eight in Russian.

Ivan began to sound like he was getting bored. _What a heartless bastard…_ America thought. He clenched his jaws together as a tangy taste entered his mouth and he coughed, spitting out blood onto the floor. Blood began running from his lips down to his chin and even running down to his throat. A sour feeling accumulated in his nose and his eyes began to tear from trying to consume the flaring pain. America closed his eyes. Whatever fear he had in the darkness he now found comfort. It escaped him from this horrible nightmare, it made everything seem like a dream. It comforted him.

Another lash from the whip sent searing pain rippling through his stomach and he opened his eyes to let out a squeal. A single tear fell from his eye as he consumed the pain once again, and he sputtered out blood. His torso was now covered in scars. "Stay awake, weakling." Muttered Russia. At least Matt was okay…

Back in the city~

Matthew opened his eyes, wheezing in an out as he lay in his hospital bed staring up at a white, rocky ceiling. He glanced around to become familiar with his surroundings. A small desk with Canadian bacon and milk rested to the right of him, and to his left was a curtain. He sat up, but did so too quickly and got lightheaded. He brought his hand to his forehead as he tried to keep upright. He moaned a little to himself.

"A-are you awake?" Asked a voice tentatively from behind the curtain. Cuba popped his head out from behind the curtain, his shy face didn't match his buff figure. He was grasping some flowers tightly and hard a girly basket resting on his elbow. "Uhhheh.." Cuba rubbed the back of his head. "Er… I just came with the flowers cause the guy at the shop said it was nice… and… someone just like this here…" He said and blushed, obviously uncomfortable with this kind of lovey-dovey stuff. Canada smiled a cute smile and quietly mumbled, "Thanks. Eh do you know where America is?" He asked worriedly.

Cuba seemed a little riled by the odd question, and looked at the ground. "Uh… no… um… why? Did he do this to you?" Cuba asked, making his hands into fists and he nearly crushed the flower stems he had in his hand. Canada smiled politely and waved his hands in the air. "No.. no of course not!" Said Canada with a nervous chuckle. "Oh… uh… here…" Cuba said and handed Canada a new pair of glasses, and set the basket and flowers on the table. Canada put the glasses on, but they were too big and slumped down on his nose. Canada blushed and pushed his new glasses up. "Uh… thanks." He said with a smile.

"W-who is the basket from?" Asked Canada nervously. He wouldn't normally ignore his guest but he was really worried about his younger brother, Alfred. "Uh…" Said Cuba. "It doesn't say… but there's a card right here!" Cuba plucked a tiny card from his giant hands and gave it to Canada. Matthew opened it up and read it.

"From me to you a gift with love,

That mushy gushy stuff that makes us fly like a dove,

That warms our hearts

Here's some tarts.

PS. I have a gift to give you. Next week meet me by the Japanese Art Museum in the square. It's a big one."is


	3. Early Birthday Presents and Discussions

It was daytime this time, and the sun hung brightly in the sky, casting rays of warm sunshine onto the frozen morning, which melted the frost that clung to the grass into dew. It was still a chilly day even with the warm sun about, and the people of Canada bustled about in long sleeved shirts and unzipped jackets. A buff, darker colored man in a flower shirt and sandals shivered in the open air, wrapping his arms around himself for warmth. His teeth chattered as he stood outside a rinky-dink hospital awaiting his friend.

A man stepped out of the revolving doors, covered in a nice jacket and jeans. He had glasses that clung loosely to his face and along single strand of hair that drooped in front of his face. The shivering man jumped for joy at his much weaker and smaller friend, grabbing him in his buff arms and hugging the life out of him. The smaller man choked and squirmed under the immense strength of his stronger friend. "He-heeeey Matty you're ok!" Said the buff man and released his hug and laid his hand on his head ruffling up Canada's dirty blonde hair. The smaller man blushed in embarrassment and looked away rubbing his shoulder. "Well… of course I am." He said. The memory of that night still flashed around in his mind like a bad dream. He remembered the dread in his brother's eyes…

Cuba broke his train of thought. "How do you people stand this weather? It's so cold!" Shuddered the man, who was now shivering again. Cuba hesitated. "Wha- what are you talking about? It's is wonderful weather!" Said Canada confusedly. The weather seemed fine to him, maybe a tad under the warmth but he didn't see anything wrong with it. "Wonderful, it's like winter!" Muttered Cuba. "How do you Canadians go through the day like it's nothing?" Canada, on the other hand, wondered why Cuba thought it was so cold. Then he realized, that Cuba lived way down south past Florida. He rubbed his head and chuckled nervously. "It must be because you're so used to the heat… this is nothing compared to our winters." Replied Canada, smiling.

"I need a jacket!" Replied Cuba in a huff, and grabbed Canada by the arm and dragging him away from the hospital. "Wha- ow!" Said Canada in a hushed voice, trying the best he could to keep up with his friend. They ended up in front of a winter wear shop, where Cuba picked out a bulky jacket with a hood and some gloves. He walked up to the cashier and put them on the counter. "I want these now!" The cashier seemed surprised b the man and jumped away emanating a small squeal of fear. Cuba then continued to stick his hand in his pocket and pull out a few Pesos and slammed them down on the counter too. Canada himself looked a little freaked out by Cuba's actions. The cashier picked up the Pesos and explained to Cuba slowly and fearfully that Pesos were not accepted here. "What?" Said Cuba in outrage, banging his hand on the counter. "I demand to see your manager about this!" The Canadian cashier whimpered and nodded quickly, but Canada laughed nervously and stepped in front of Cuba handing the cashier a couple of Canadian dollars. "J-just take these and we'll go." Replied Canda with a smile, and the cashier nodded and handed Canada the changed and Cuba grabbed his new winter attire.

"You Canadians are so… different." Said Cuba as he was putting on his jacket outside the shop. Canada chuckled again and smiled nervously. "Just forget about it for now… I wanna go see what that anonymous letter was about." Replied Canada with sudden interest. Who would want to meet by a Japanese art museum? Maybe Japan? No… what did Japan have to do with any of this? Maybe… America! America did have an interest in the Japanese… and he was more likely to appear in Canada. He knew it, it had to be his brother Alfed! He smiled. Once again, though, Cuba interrupted his thoughts. "Uhhh… are you sure it's safe? I wouldn't trust an anonymous letter." He replied. Canada smiled. "Well, that's my brother for you… he's always being weird.." Cuba frowned. "So you're brother is behind it all?" He growled angrily. Canada waved his hands and shook his head. "Ah no no! Alfred is really nice he wouldn't do anything to hurt me!" He chuckled nervously. Cube let off a gruff sigh. "Fine. But I'm coming with you incase that idiot tries any bad moves." Replied Cuba, resting his hands on his hips and wrapped into fists.

As they made their way to the Japanese art museum, Canada would jump at any unnecessary sound. Once they got there, Cuba glanced at Canada. "Hey are you ok? You seem a little… jumpy." Said Cuba worriedly. "Oh no it's nothing!" Said Canada with a nervous smile. Cuba hesitated. "Oh… alright then… if you say so.." There was silence. Lots of it. A man in a black suit walked up to the museum and sat down on a bench. He had sunglasses on but Canada got the feeling that he was staring at them. After a while, a quiet "psst" resounded from the side of the museum. Canada hesitated, and so did Cuba. It echoed again, this time louder. Cuba got up and wandered over to it, followed by Canada. A tall, skinny man, covered in a black jacket, pants, hat and a scarf, which protected his identity except for his eyes which were hazel. He waved his hand to come closer. "Come, come."

This man had a stranger accent, but Canada couldn't put his finger on it. He hesitated and followed the man carefully, watching his every move. Whoever this man was, he didn't seem friendly. "So… where are you taking us?" Asked Cuba, his muscles bulging as he stared at the odd man tensely. He looked back at the two. "No need to worry." The accent again. The rs were halfway rolled, like a failed Spanish accent. "Riiight…" Said Cuba cautiously and kept following in silence.

Then they rounded a corner and came upon a huge truck. It was covered and held something inside. "Do not open. Wait for birthday!" Said the man. There was a note hanging out of the truck like a tail. Canada grabbed it and read it.

"Hey bro! Inside this truck contains a very large and epic birthday present! You must wait until your birthday, July 1st, to open it. I will be sending this man to care for your present until your big day arrives, because this present will most definitely be your favorite, and it must be in good hands until the day arrives. With love and cheeseburgers, Alfie!"

Canada rubbed the back of his head nervously and smiled. "This surely is a big birthday present… and so early on in the year… why would he give me it so early?" Said Canada nervously. Cuba frowned. "So it is that idiot!" Canada jumped. He hadn't realized Cuba had been reading over his shoulder the whole time. The truck looked really nice, it was blue and had waves painted across it. Maybe it was a fish tank or something? Canada sighed and shrugged. "Well… let's get it to my house…" muttered Canada reluctantly.

Meanwhile…

America woke up in a bed, with some ugly blue and white striped pajamas on. He felt sore all over, and every time he tried to move he hurt. He got up the courage to fight the pain and stretched. He felt a little better after that, not as stiff, but now pain was rushing through his body. He was on a dingy bed, who knows how long he'd been lying there, but now his back hurt. He clenched his jaw together firmly as he gathered the energy to sit up and hang his legs off of the bed. He felt a burning sensation along his chest and back, and unbuttoned his shirt to see healing wounds from his torture. He winced as he stood to his feet, along with the bed there was a small mirror and a toilet. He looked at himself in the mirror. His face was caked with dirt and his hair was scruffy and unattended. His eyes looked dead as he stared back at himself. He mustered up the energy to speak, and his voice rumbled a bit. "Where… am i?" He asked into oblivion, and a clinking sound began to ring in his ear.

A low voice replied to him. "So… you're awake?" America rolled his head around again and his neck cracked and the stiffness broke. He turned to see another man, dressed in a police costume, his hat covering his hair and his long face turned the other direction. He was on the other side of bars that separated his grimy room from the rest of the hallway that led to who knows where. He slowly trod over to the bars and wrapped his fingers around them, looking at the man who spoke to him. "W- who are you?" America coughed and cleared his dry throat to speak better. "I cannot give away my identity." He said. He was sitting on a chair leaning against it and his head resting on a pole. His legs were crossed and he swung around a couple of handcuffs for amusement.

"Then can you tell me… why… why Russia is doing this?" He asked, his voice dipped as he spoke the man's name. "Didn't he tell you? Someone stole his stuff. He's determined to get it back if it means killing a man." "But that's ludicrous! Why would a man do such a thing for a stolen object?" America's voice raised, but it was cracked. "Because you were right… someone's plotting against him, and the whole world's in danger." "Why would the whole world be in danger?" Alfred brought his hand to his face as he coughed. "Because you were right. Someone stole his weapons. And only Russia knows how to handle them without blowing the world to smithereens!" Said the man, raising his voice in tolerance. America sighed. "I wasn't supposed to tell you that." Muttered the man gruffly. "But how else was I gonna shut you up?" America sighed. "Why would someone do this? Who would want to start a war now?" The man shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. Don't know."

America huffed angrily. "Well, why would Ivan do such a thing?" The man sighed again. "Look. Russia isn't a bad guy. He just knows what's at stake here. Everyone's in danger now and Russia's doing everything in his power to stop it. He's got forces out everywhere searching in every country. "Well, why doesn't he help me look?" "Because he doesn't trust you. People are ready to fight as soon as they get their hands on some proof. Before long, the word will get out and we'll have to have some kind of proof before the fakes start appearing."

America sighed, looking down. "I guess you're right."


End file.
